The young man’s fingertip pads were warm and soft. The moment they made contact with her ear, the deafening music happened to stop, and his voice was right at her ear — every sensation amplified infinitely.

Lin Tao thought she might faint from the force of her own heartbeat in the very next second. She sat rigidly, not daring to move, her voice going stiff with her. “……Then I won’t wear it.”

Jiang Yan gave a quiet sound of assent. As he withdrew his hand, whether intentionally or not, he gave her flushed, burning ear one more light pinch.

“……”

For a split second Lin Tao genuinely wanted to flip the table, pry open his skull, and take a look at what kind of chaotic mess was stored inside.

This person’s methods were getting more unreadable by the day.

If things kept going like this, she would sooner or later fall completely under his spell — and if that actually happened, it would be the most catastrophically unlucky thing to befall her in all her sixteen years.

Lin Tao mentally tried out a certain image in her mind —

A classroom. A strikingly handsome young man with his head bowed, taking notes. Under the desk, without changing his expression, he reached out a hand and quietly hooked her finger with his.

“……”

Damn.

Why did that image feel inexplicably sweet to her?

Lin Tao frowned deeper and deeper the more she thought about it, completely failing to notice that the person sitting beside her had gotten up from his seat and left at some point.

Her dazed expression was too obvious to miss. Meng Xin, sitting on her other side, nudged her shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”

Lin Tao snapped back. She made a sound of acknowledgment and shook her head. “Nothing.”

She glanced over and noticed the empty seat, then asked, “Where’s Jiang Yan?”

“No idea — he was here just a minute ago. Probably the bathroom?” Meng Xin finished peeling the last shrimp and looked down at her oil-covered hands. “Tao-tao, come with me to the bathroom — I need to wash my hands.”

“Alright.”

The two girls said a quick word to the boys and got up to find the restroom.

There was a public bathroom behind the bar, attended and maintained by dedicated staff — far cleaner than the average tourist area.

Meng Xin washed her hands, then felt a slight discomfort in her stomach. “Ugh. I need to take care of something inside. Wait for me out here a second.”

Lin Tao didn’t feel anything particular herself, just nodded. “Go ahead.”

Once Meng Xin had gone in, Lin Tao stood outside under a coconut palm, head bowed, scrolling on her phone.

The night breeze stirred gently, carrying with it the residual warmth of the afternoon.

She sent Jiang Yan a WeChat message —

Where did you go?

The reply came back quickly —

Look up.

Lin Tao paused for just a moment, then, as though a switch had been flipped, she looked up.

A few meters away, at the entrance to the bathroom, the young man stood with his phone in hand. The stark white light overhead fell clearly across every line of his expression.

The young man started walking toward her, his strides steady. The light and shadows were all left behind him.

Lin Tao stood still, watching him.

Jiang Yan stopped one step in front of her. The evening breeze stirred the strands of hair at his forehead; he reached up and ran a hand through it, his voice slightly dispersed by the wind. “Heading back?”

“You go ahead. I’ll wait for Meng Xin.”

The sea breeze carried a faint trace of smoke. Lin Tao looked at him carefully; the young man’s expression was distant, his brow and eyes holding a barely perceptible melancholy, as though something weighed heavily on his mind.

He looked nothing like the Jiang Yan who had pinched her ear a few minutes ago.

“Alright.”

After a stretch of silence, he gave a nod and walked past her — and as he did, Lin Tao caught a heavier trace of smoke on him.

He never smoked. At least, in all the time Lin Tao had sat beside him, she had never once seen him with a cigarette, never smelled smoke on him.

A situation like this was a first.

Lin Tao pressed her lips together. Abruptly, she turned and called after him. “Jiang Yan.”

“Hmm?” He looked back. He was standing in the shadows, the glittering, multicolored lights flickering behind him, making his expression look even more dull and flat.

“You……” Lin Tao hesitated, wrestled with herself for a few seconds, then let out a quiet breath. “Never mind. It’s nothing. You go on back.”

Everyone had moods; some people liked to talk about them, others preferred to keep them buried. He seemed to lean toward the latter.

She couldn’t pry every single time.

Jiang Yan stood where he was and said nothing for a long moment.

Not far away, the music from the stage was deafening; by the time it was carried here on the sea wind, it had a long, lingering echo.

After a long while, Jiang Yan finally moved — but not to turn back. Instead he walked back to her, and with no context at all, said: “I’m fine.”

“I know.” Lin Tao met his eyes, looking at the razor-sharp line of his profile. She said it again. “I know you’re fine.”

“Mm.”

“……So you’re not going back?”

“Keeping you company.” His voice was quiet.

Meng Xin seemed to be having some trouble — it had been nearly ten minutes and she still hadn’t come out. Lin Tao’s legs were getting tired from standing; she shifted her feet.

Jiang Yan glanced over at the movement.

The girl was wearing denim shorts; two slender, straight legs were fully exposed, the lines clean and flowing, knees round and pale, down to her ankles — which were fine-boned, the sides dipping inward slightly, two shallow, delicate hollows there.

Jiang Yan turned his gaze away without any visible reaction.

Can’t look.

Too many cold showers aren’t good for the health either.

The music nearby suddenly softened into something gentle — a song that had been everywhere in the streets for a while. Lin Tao had heard it countless times during her first year of high school, the melody thoroughly familiar.

Now, catching just a few notes, she found herself humming along with the rhythm.

“……how do we go……all through a summer……when the wind blows……if only……”

Not too loud, not too soft, she hummed it all the way to the end.

Jiang Yan stood with his head slightly bowed, listening to the faint sound of it, and felt a boundless tenderness rise unexpectedly inside him.

Another five minutes passed.

Just as Lin Tao was beginning to suspect Meng Xin intended to take up residence in there, she finally emerged — looking considerably less spirited than when she’d gone in.

Lin Tao’s urge to tease her evaporated on the spot. She went over and steadied her. “You alright?”

“I’m……just crouched too long. My legs went numb.” Meng Xin washed her hands clean, her whole body leaning on Lin Tao. She looked up and spotted Jiang Yan standing under the shade of the palm tree. “Oh? Why’s the big shot here?”

“Waiting for you, obviously.”

“Well, that’s honestly quite an honor.” Meng Xin immediately perked up as if she’d had a shot of adrenaline, testing her legs. “Okay. I’m back to life.”

“……”

The three of them quickly returned to the table.

Guan Che and the others had mostly finished eating; they looked up when they saw the three approaching and laughed. “If you’d been any longer, we were going to file a missing persons report.”

“Title: In Search of Elderly Children Who Have Gone Astray.“

Jiang Yan slanted a glance at Guan Che as he said it.

Guan Che immediately fell silent and zipped his lips shut.

Lin Tao didn’t pay it much mind either. She sat down, glanced at the quieted stage, and did a double take. “Isn’t that Hu Hanghang up there? What’s he doing — planning to stay on as their permanent guitarist?”

Song Yuan beside her explained, “The lead singer just said it was ‘audience time’ — open stage, anyone can go up. And naturally, this guy went.”

“……” Lin Tao looked once more at Hu Hanghang on stage, still adjusting the guitar. “I’m starting to feel worried for the patrons of this establishment.”

Meng Xin agreed. “Same.”

The intro started. Lin Tao noticed that Jiang Yan’s fingers on the table were tapping along to the rhythm — without missing a beat.

“……Walking in the wind / today the sun / is suddenly so gentle / ……”

Lin Tao was still a little distracted, but Hu Hanghang on stage had already opened his mouth to sing.

She froze.

You truly couldn’t judge a book by its cover. Hu Hanghang always seemed cheerful and unserious — yet his singing turned out to be unexpectedly, genuinely good.

By the end of the song, he’d earned quite a bit of applause.

Hu Hanghang came back to the table all smiles, and Lin Tao offered him a sincere apology. “Pangpang, I’m sorry — I take back every one of my doubts. You’re a remarkable Hu Hanghang.”

Hu Hanghang laughed, ruffling his hair, and took a long swig from the water glass on the table. “That was just average. You haven’t heard Yan-ge sing — that’s something else.”

“Honestly, it’s divine.” He added.

Lin Tao turned to look at Jiang Yan and asked, with a hint of testing the waters: “So… would you like to go up and demonstrate your beautiful singing voice for us?”

Lin Tao figured she could already guess — this person’s vocal ability was probably nothing to scoff at. Just during that last song alone, he had tracked the beat correctly for at least half the song without a single error.

Jiang Yan leaned lazily back in his chair, the warm yellow light settling over him, casting sharp edges along his features. He gave a slight shake of his head. “Not going up.”

The expected answer. Lin Tao wasn’t particularly disappointed — she just gave a mild shrug, voice easy. “That’s fine. I figured you probably couldn’t sing anyway.”

“Why would you think that?” He lowered his voice slightly, asking.

Lin Tao turned sideways, propped her cheek on her hand, elbow on the table, a pair of bright almond-shaped eyes carrying a very obvious amusement. “Because you’re afraid that if you go up there and sing, you’ll expose the truth — that your voice is actually not good at all.”

This was quite clearly an obvious, thoroughly hole-ridden attempt at reverse psychology. Yet Jiang Yan seemed to find it effective. “That’s how badly you want to hear me sing?”

Lin Tao stared at him, affecting regret. “Wanting to hear it doesn’t help — you still won’t sing.”

“But do you want to hear it?” He seemed strangely intent on this particular question.

Three seconds of silence. Lin Tao nodded. “Yes.”

“Alright,” he said.

“?”

“Then I’ll sing for you.”

October in Hai City was still warm; the breeze off the shore carried coolness, dissolving the lingering heat from the air, damp and refreshing.

After saying that, the young man stood up and walked toward the stage, the plaza lights stretching his shadow long behind him.

Lin Tao rapidly played back the exchange between them in her head —

Do you want to hear it? Yes. Alright. ? Then I’ll sing for you.

“……”

He could have just said he’d go up and sing.

Why did he have to say he’d sing for her?

Lin Tao genuinely felt that she was finished.

She was back to the same state she’d been in earlier in the car — heart racing, mind blank, not knowing what to make of any of it.

The only thing her brain would do was replay those last few lines of the exchange over and over, like a film on loop, completely beyond her control.

She looked up and saw the young man on stage, head bowed, talking to the guitarist beside him with a focused expression. The colorful lights drifted across his face intermittently.

They seemed to be discussing something. The young man curled the corner of his mouth into a small smile, took the microphone someone handed him, and placed it in the holder in front of him.

He looked down, adjusting the height with his hands.

He turned sideways to tap out the beat with the musicians behind him.

He smiled. He spoke.

Every one of his movements was magnified infinitely before Lin Tao’s eyes. Someone as brilliantly compelling as he was — there was simply no ignoring him.

The stage lights suddenly dimmed. The young man stood there, tall and unhurried, one hand resting lightly on the microphone, and moved his lips.

“/ I found a love for me / Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead /”

The deep, low voice moved slowly through the air, carried by the speakers, resonating through the open sky around them. The sound of conversation nearby gradually quieted.

Lin Tao went still the moment he began. She had heard this song many times before — but what she couldn’t forget was the music video.

The shyness of the male lead meeting the person he loved. The smiles of those two in the snow. The embrace in the middle of vast snowy mountains at the very end.

……

Every frame, one Lin Tao could not let go of.

In this moment.

The warm and radiant young man stood on stage. The night sky above was full of stars. He stood there and lifted his eyes — straight to her — and looked, and looked, until he looked all the way into the depths of her heart.

In that one instant, Lin Tao finally understood.

All along, that unsteady, out-of-control racing of her heart whenever she faced him —

Was not illness.

It was something called —

Heartbeat.

Author’s note: — Yan-ge: I’ve finally waited for you — thank goodness I didn’t give up — To celebrate Lin Tao finally waking up, Jiang Yan has specially invited the infamous foolish author Sui Jian to hand out red packets to everyone! — The song is “Perfect” — I strongly recommend everyone go listen!!